


Aw, Battery, No!

by AvaKelly



Series: Bits and Pieces [11]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint gets bit in the ass by feels, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, First Kiss, M/M, actually clumsy clint, bucky is gentler than he looks, bucky is secretly pining but not doing a good job of it, clint has close encounters with batteries, clint's an endearing disaster, clumsily signing bucky, grumpy bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I swallowed a mosquito once," Barnes says, eyes half lidded with the most bored expression possible, like ingesting a battery is no biggie.</p>
<p>"You can swallow my dick, asshole," Clint mutters before taking a careful sip of the water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aw, Battery, No!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuckyeahdeafandasexual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahdeafandasexual/gifts).



> So this is for the Flor (not the floor, the floor is dusty and undeserving right now). :D  
> Find her on [tumblr here](http://fuckyeahdeafandasexual.tumblr.com/), cos Ao3's being sneaky with the dedications to people not on the website. :)

Clint stares at the ceiling as he tries to make himself comfortable on the lumpy motel mattress. On the other side of the room, Barnes is puttering around with his weapons, taking them apart and putting them back together. Clint sighs.

They're stuck in this hell hole for another fourteen hours until their ride arrives. The mission has been easy, simple really. They had a protection detail for a witness, and the agency involved wanted extra protection aside from the gaggle of cops and other agents assigned. So Barnes and Clint had drawn the short straws, what with them being snipers and all.

It's been really interesting working with Barnes in the past months. For one, he's a super quiet, super creepy, super focused dude during missions, with a glare that could cut through diamonds. But when they're in down time, oh boy. Clint doesn't think he's had the pleasure to exchange that much snark with anyone, ever. And he's incredibly funny, too.

Today, though, Barnes seems grumpier than usual, and Clint has been meaning to ask what's crawled up his ass since lunch. He hasn't though, 'cos Barnes looks genuinely upset with something, and Clint's not that much of an ass, or at least he tries not to be. So he watches Barnes, and why does Barnes keep frowning at Clint like that?, while he fiddles with his hearing aids. They've been itchy and crackly. Perhaps their batteries are going dead.

With immense satisfaction, Clint pulls them both out. He's with Barnes now, there is no need to be that alert, and Clint doesn't really remember when exactly he's started trusting Barnes to have his back, but here he is now. He squirms again, pushing his shoulder blades into the lumps in hopes that he'll hit a more comfortable spot on the mattress, and pulls at the bit of plastic covering the battery socket of the aid.

And the battery is not there. Place is empty. Big ole nothing.

That's because Clint's currently chocking on it, and he coughs, flailing to straighten up, but the thing slides down his throat with intent, like it's possessed. Clint can feel it going down, hurting as it travels toward his stomach, and oh crap.

Crap, crap, _crap_ , it's not supposed to be in there, it's supposed to be out here, minding it's own business like a nice lil' battery!

He doesn't register the panic that overtakes him until he feels fingers on his face, some warm and some cold, but all unyielding.

"Hey, Clint... Clint, come on, look at me!"

Oh, Barnes.

He tries to speak, but he chokes on air.

"Just relax ok? We'll get it out. Come on, breathe a little."

And the fingers are gentle, _too gentle_ for how precise they are in pulling triggers, throwing knives, and strangling baddies. The sensation pushes air into Clint's lungs, tiny trickle by tiny trickle, but he's finally inhaling enough again.

"What's wrong?" Barnes asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Clint's fingers are still gripping tightly onto Barnes' arms, but he doesn't want to let go yet. "Swallowed a battery," he rasps. "Gotta take it out."

"Yeah, ok," and then Barnes is up and off the bed, flipping bags open and rummaging through their gear.

He returns with the plastic tubing from their first aid kid, part of some stuff Clint doesn't want to know about. He hates hospitals ok, and he can take care of himself, thank you very much. But then Barnes sits back down next to him, unscrewing the cap from one of his magnetic arrows, disinfectant and suture thread at the ready. His movements are swift as he breaks off a bit off the sliver of magnetized core, enough to fit in the tube...

"What the fu--"

And Clint's back down on the bed, gagging around the tube as cold fingers hold him down. He scrambles to grip at the metal wrist there, but Barnes doesn't budge.

"Clint, swallow," comes next, too gentle again, metal caressing his neck, and Clint complies way too quickly, "that's good, you're doing great."

The motherfucker hurts, worse than getting shot, worse than that sonic arrow. It's fucking horrible is what it is.

"Concentrate on me," Barnes says, voice soft.

It makes Clint blink, until his eyes focus back to the reality of the room, until he realizes that everything is _beyond_ muffled.

He hasn't been actually _hearing_ Barnes, just looking at him, at his lips, at the way his pupils have been dilating and constricting, at the small twitches of the corners of his mouth. Barnes hasn't actually said one word since this entire thing has started, and now is really not the time to have an epiphany.

Clint's just been projecting, registering what he wishes Barnes would tell him. All that softness? In Clint's head. He can't believe he's got fucking feelings for the fucking ex-Winter Soldier, and it's taken a near death experience to figure it out.

The tube hurts worse as it comes out, but the fingers lift from his throat, and Barnes extends his palm with the tiny battery at him.

Fuck.

He feels around for the other aid, fumbles with it until it's settled into place, and he tries not to think about how his fingers are shaking from something other than having a tube shoved down the gullet. Barnes is gone for a minute, but comes back with a glass of water by the time Clint gets his frantic heartbeat slightly down.

"I swallowed a mosquito once," Barnes says, eyes half lidded with the most bored expression possible, like ingesting a battery is no biggie.

Clint's really not in the mood, not after everything that's just happened in the past... oh, good, it's only taken _five minutes_ for Clint's entire world to turn upside down.

"You can swallow my dick, asshole," he mutters before taking a careful sip of the water.

Barnes grumbles something too fast for Clint to catch, while he's also turning away, so Clint doesn't see his lips either. But is that a flush he's seeing on Barnes' cheeks?

Clint lunges forward, catching Barnes' sleeve before he can stand, and when Barnes looks at him, he's scowling, worst Clint's ever seen him, but his face is definitely skirting near reddish.

"Thank you," he says.

A beat, and Barnes' expression turns softer, before warm flesh fingers grip at Clint's shoulder.

"Just like you to almost die in downtime, idiot," Barnes says.

It's barely audible, but Clint catches it, because the words are not mumbled, merely quieter than Barnes' usual volume. He sounds a lot like Tasha when she scolds him for endangering himself, and worrying her in the process. But Barnes couldn't be worried, could he?

His eyes though, they tell a myriad of stories, there's a whole universe of words behind his blue irises, words that don't need vocal cords to be spoken or ears to be heard. Clint leans in, wanting to slide into that space, presses their mouths together.

And what the hell is Clint doing?

He doesn't have time to panic, though, because Barnes pushes at his shoulders, taking control of the kiss. It's hot and dry, the slide of lips catching onto each other in such a way that it causes Clint's breath to hitch.

His throat still hurts, and he must have made a sound, because Barnes pulls away. He's leaning over Clint, arms braced on either side of Clint's head on the mattress, breathing heavily, his hair falling down messily around his face. The flush of his cheeks is deeper now, his lips red, his eyes wide. Clint's been yearning for this, unknowingly, and it's all bubbling to the surface, right now, in this moment. He tugs at the front of Barnes' vest.

"I kinda like you, Barnes," Clint breathes, and fuck. He hasn't meant to say _that_ , at least not right now. Aw, brain.

But the smile Barnes turns at him is so brilliant, Clint doesn't care anymore. He's surprised, though, when Barnes' flesh fingers gently remove the remaining hearing air from his ear. He opens his mouth to ask, but Barnes raises and finger, presses it to his lips, smile never wavering.

The metal of his hand glints as he shapes a _B_ between them. Then an _U_ , and a _C_. They're followed by a _K_ and a clumsier _Y_ , but Clint gets it.

_Bucky_.

_'Hello,'_ Clint moves his lips.

He gets to taste Bucky's smile again, and it's slow, infused with the same gentleness Clint's imagined before. Not this time, though, this time it's real.

And he holds tightly onto the dreaded battery, because _aw, battery, no_ , but _aw, battery, yes_.

~End~


End file.
